


She Who Hunts Alone

by RainbowMagicMarker



Series: Misyl Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Endgame, Spoilers, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowMagicMarker/pseuds/RainbowMagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Solas disappears and Leliana is unable to find him, Lavellan takes matters into her own hands and dedicates herself to hunting for him in the most obvious locations, the Fade. Though the elf continues to elude her, she does draw the attention of far greater spirits and gods.</p>
<p>Endgame spoilers and some Solas romance spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Who Hunts Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in years and then you drop a Bioware game in front of me and here I am. I'm a little out of practice so I appreciate your patience.
> 
> Thanks and shoutout to tumblr user sweetiesammy for beta'ing this for me!
> 
> Elven translations can be found at the end.

It has been eons since he has been hunted at all, and never with such fervor. He had to admire her determination, just as he admired so much about her. 

Perhaps he had shown her too much, taught her too well, but how could he not with such an attentive and observant pupil? Yet now as he fled she was always just steps behind him, always just around the corner from finding him. 

He could not quite admit to himself that he wanted to be caught. If he was that honest with himself he would not be able to restrain the urge to throw himself to her feet and beg for mercy he did not deserve, spill everything to her, everything he had done to his people, to _her_ people. Everything he had done to her. Could a mortal mind even bear such knowledge? It was a dagger in his heart to know that she was mortal because of him. 

Yet she bore the Well of Sorrows, there was a chance. 

_A paw print in the dirt._

The spirits knew his heart, and they would not help him hide. He could not turn them from their purpose; they were merely doing what spirits did, following the thoughts and emotions of the physical realm. His thoughts drifted always to her, his heart belonged to her. Judging from her hunting, she felt the same. The spirits sought to help her as they would not help him, clearing the way for her, offering subtle guidance, keeping her always just around the corner. 

His path had never been an easy one, yet now each step forward was harder than the last. He wanted nothing more than to stop, to let her come upon him, to face the wrath that she would have once she found out what he was if it meant basking in her glory one last time. Perhaps it would even be kinder to let her hate him, but he was a selfish man, and things were always easier in the Fade. 

_The howl of a wolf._

Demons followed in her wake, though they shied from the strength of her will. Despair, Terror, and Desire hounded her like stray dogs, eager to consume the strength of her determination, hoping for her to stumble enough they could feast on the shards of pain he had left her with. The ones that got bold enough to show themselves she handled with ease, in the end it was not their presence that broke his heart, but the absence of one. For all the horrid forms that followed her as she hunted the Fade, not a single Rage demon found her exploits interesting enough to prey upon. 

Even after what he'd done to her she did not hate him. She hunted not as stalker hunts for vengeance, but as a huntress seeking sustenance, and that broke his heart more than her anger ever could. 

It only worsened when she started taking sleeping draughts. He could tell the difference, her will was weaker, her ability to exert control over the Fade diminished, and the demons grew greater in number and in strength, for here was raw, undefended emotion in great quantities for them to feast upon. She weakened slowly, and as she did they got bolder, stronger, drawing ever closer to her. That was when he started circling her, a ring of safety for his vhenan even as she searched for him. 

Most knew better, and scattered at his presence, but some he made examples of. 

_Signs of teeth and claws, blood on the ground but not blood, not as she knew it. Evidence of a struggle. She wasn't alone here._

It was harder now, trying to both hide from her and protect her in the same breath. As she weakened and he fretted the spirits only grew more determined to bring them together, hampering his efforts to hide even further. Still, he could not convince himself to abandon her to her folly; she was only in this state to begin with because he had left, because he had been foolish enough, impulsive enough, to love her. He would quickly bend his knees to her and beg she give up this search if he thought it would help, and yet he knew her, knew her ferocity, and knew that any attempt to dissuade her would only renew her determination. He could not trust himself to walk away from her twice. 

Relentlessly she threw herself into the Fade, her usage of draughts and spells to enter sleep weakening her here beyond the Veil. As she weakened further the demons she attracted became greater in number and strength, shielding her from them became a more and more difficult task. He made an example of the stronger ones, and often that was enough to send the weaker demons scattering, but the trickster was not always successful, and eventually exhaustion saw him outmaneuvered. It was not a scream that alerted him to his failure; it was a vicious snarl, a chilling phrase. 

_'Dread Wolf take you!' She spat, channeling all her will into the hilt in her hand. It spat and flickered, but rather than the broadsword she called forth so effortlessly in battle, a dagger fizzled weakly in her hand._

He was on the spindly Terror in a heartbeat, rending limb from body as a mabari might tear a choice stick from a tree. The demon dissolved in his maw, fading into the raw fabric of the fade. He did not think it would ever return, at least not this one in particular. 

Her gasp was faint, swallowed quickly as she pulled herself to her feet, dusting herself off to hide the fear and gather her courage. She would not flinch even in the face of a great beast such as he, this he knew, and that only made him fear. Would she recognize him like this? This was not the elf she had grown to love, but there was more wisdom in her than even he had ever seen. Would she know? 

"Ma tel'eth." He growled, and watched the way her hands shook. 

_A wolf, larger than any she had ever encountered, turned its gaze on her like hungry predator. Fur blacker than the void and teeth extending past curled lips, paws stained with blood, or was that just his coloration? She couldn't tell. If he was a demon he was like nothing she had ever heard of, and he spoke to her in elvish._

Her eyes widened with realization, though if that was good or bad he didn't know, and his body tensed in response. Could she see it, or did she see something else entirely? She did not think him a demon, he knew full well how she handled those, but she certainly saw something. For all the time he had spent with her some of her was still an unreadable enigma, and that unsettled him. The Dalish as he knew them had always been so predictable. 

There was a brief swell of pride in his heart that perhaps under her the elves would find glory again, but it faded quickly as she spoke. 

_'Ma serannas,' She bowed her head politely to him, an excuse to look away and collect herself. She knew the stories, this wasn't possible, why would he save her from such a petty demon? 'Fen'Harel.' She lifted her head and met his gaze, unwavering as she stiffened her shoulders and sheathed the channel of her blade._

"Ma emma harel, da'mi." He returned, sitting before her. Even seated he towered over her in this form, looking down on her fragile body, "Tu ma era'an?" The words escaped him before he could hold them back. He knew, he knew exactly why she was here, and yet perhaps he deserved to hear it from her own lips. A punishment for putting her in such a position, she would never have been in danger at all if it wasn't for him. 

"I hunt." She answered curtly, and her eyes watched warily as he rose, restless, to circle her instead. She probably saw a predator in his movements, but truly he wanted to rest at her feet, to take her in his arms, to allow her to observe him in a different form. He could not. Would not. So much more rested on his shoulders, and yet each moment in her presence he was a breath away from showing her the truth no mortal should bear. It was selfish. 

"This is not a common hunting ground, da'mi." _Vhenan_ he wanted to whisper, but perhaps she would read an insult into these words, perhaps they would turn her away from him and he would not have to push her away. It was dangerous to engage her further. 

_'I do not hunt common prey.' She returned. She knew she should be afraid, she should flee, and yet the Dread Wolf had taken it upon himself to save her. What interest did he have?_

"Perhaps you should hunt elsewhere." He spoke calmly, magic swelling briefly beneath his paws as he whispered, " _Wake up._ " The words were soft and broken, a choked back sob, and he hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't remember them. Yet even disappointed in himself as he was he couldn't pretend to hope she wouldn't remember _him_ , even in this form. 

She was gone, and he collapsed where she had stood just heartbeats ago. A low and mournful whine escaped the throat of the Dread Wolf. He wanted her. He wanted to give her the truth, and yet each time he saw her again he had to send her away, and each time he was more exhausted than the last. He fretted, would she be okay, would she live another day? 

Would he ever see her again? 

He was the wolf, yet he had fallen prey to her, and he would have it no other way. One day, he kept telling himself; one day when this was over he would return to her side. He did not let himself think too long or hard about the fact that when the day came one or both of them might not be alive to see it. 

He did see her again, though there were some days between encounters. He both cursed and praised whoever mixed her sleeping draughts in the same breath. Hiding from her became even more difficult, however, now that she knew what she was looking for. He couldn't say if she had made the connection, he didn't have the willpower to send her away again regardless of whether she had put the pieces together on her own or not. 

The encounter with the Terror demon unnerved him, and though he couldn't approach her again he had to see her strength return. He could not dissuade her from searching the Fade, but he could halt the fumbling of her apothecary. 

_There, eyes in the shadows. He still watched her? Why had she drawn his interest now? She was quick on her feet, but he was quicker, and his obvious familiarity gave him an advantage. Woods gave away to ruins, an image torn between the height of its glory and the lowest of its ruins. Roots became stairs, ferns became rugs, and then the way was dead._

He watched her study the runes at the end of the hall, simple enough that she would be able to translate them, he had taught her himself, and though she may not try it right away her curiosity would win out. It would be leaps and bounds above what she was taking now. Once she had her strength back she could handle the Fade, handle the demons, even if it would make hiding from her next to impossible. He may not be able to stand at her side, but he would take care of her. 

Her strength came back slowly at first, and still he stalked her movements. She caught sight of him, here and there, but the advantage was still his. For now. He would have to put more distance between them once she was recovered, once he knew she could care for herself. 

As her strength came back the fervor of her search renewed. He watched her, head on his paws, as she watched old memories, followed tracks through old ruins. In this the Fade helped him, they may have been his tracks but time in the Fade did not flow as she was used to, and they were tracks that were centuries old. It would keep her preoccupied, at least for a while, and he could watch her in peace. The arc of her braid as it dislodged itself from her ear, the power and grace that showed through in each tiny movement, and the keen intuition behind her amber eyes. 

Unquestioningly he longed for her still. But not yet, not now. 

She turned, looked skyward, and a gasp escaped him. 

He had removed her Vallaslin, an irony he couldn't share at the time, removing the markings of Mythal after she had taken the power of the Well. But her face was not bare now, there were new markings across her features. He couldn't hold back a sharp bark as they came into focus. 

Fen'Harel. 

He had shown interest in her and now she sought to appeal to him. 

Oh how truly opposite it was; how he kept his distance because he knew he was slave to her whim, her command. 

_She looked up, following the sound, and there he was. Again he watched, and her brow furrowed in confusion. Yet a wolfish grin was all he gave, and then again he was gone. She knew following would be futile._

Oh vhenan, what must your clan think now? To bear those marks as the Keeper, to bear title as the Herald of Andraste, to stand as the head of the most powerful organization in Thedas, the first time in centuries one of the People held such power. What must it feel like to show the world she belonged to him, without even knowing? 

Oh vhenan. 

_'Not now Josephine.' She sighed as the Antivan followed her out of the War Room and into the main hall._

_'Inquisitor please, what shall I tell them?' There was frustration in her voice, and yet her advisor would not call her out on her behavior. She didn't need called out, she was the Inquisitor, she had done her part, they could handle the rest without her micromanaging them._

_'Tell them I'm sleeping, tell them I was wounded.' She growled in frustration, 'Tell them I'm dead for all it matters!' She turned away, shoving open the door to her quarters._

_'Lav-' She slammed the door on Josephine's words, on Josephine. She couldn't be the leader of the Inquisition, not now, not when her heart was missing._

**Author's Note:**

> "Ma tel'eth." -- You are not safe.
> 
> 'Ma serannas,' -- My thanks,
> 
> "Ma emma harel, da'mi." -- You should fear me, little knife.
> 
> "Tu ma era'an?" -- What bring you hear? (Lit. What causes you to this dreamplace?)


End file.
